


A Good Girl's Education by a Bad Bad Boy

by John_lzhc



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, Community: eleventy_kink, Crossdressing, F/M, Fingerfucking, Genderplay, Oral Sex, Pegging, Roleplay, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_lzhc/pseuds/John_lzhc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was definitely River's fault. The Doctor certainly wouldn't have stolen all his own clothes while he was in the shower. He absolutely wouldn't have stolen all the towels as well, leaving only a few hand towels that did nothing for modesty. And even on the off chance he'd gone mad and left out some new, definitely-not-his clothes on a hanger with a handwritten note saying 'Wear this gorgeous, x x', he could safely say he would never have left himself a powder blue pleated sundress and a little white cardigan. Oh, and sheer white hold up stockings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Girl's Education by a Bad Bad Boy

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started out with a vague image of River with a [blue strapon](http://www.passion8.co.uk/p/l/9328.jpg), and the Doctor in a sundress and [white stockings](http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=260725025233), and a history of never, every being able to write sex scenes no matter how hard I tried. Next thing I knew, this just fell out of my brain onto the keyboard. I'm not sure what happened.
> 
> Many thanks to [spike_1790](http://spike-1790.livejournal.com/) who beta'ed.

The Doctor was not an unreasonable man. He was not unjust. He did not jump to unfounded accusations at the drop of a towel. But this was definitely River's fault. At rest in the vortex, the TARDIS was (is, shall be) an eternal, impenetrable bubble, and right now it's only occupants were River and the Doctor. And the Doctor certainly wouldn't have stolen all his own clothes while he was in the shower. He definitely wouldn't have upturned every single sock draw and bedside cabinet to remove every last stitch from his own room. He absolutely wouldn't have stolen all the towels as well, leaving only a few hand towels that did nothing for modesty. And even on the off chance he'd gone mad and left out some new, definitely-not-his clothes on a hanger with a handwritten note saying 'Wear this gorgeous, x x', he could safely say he would never have left himself a powder blue pleated sundress and a little white cardigan. Oh, and sheer white hold up stockings. So yes. _Definitely_ River's fault.

And this left the Doctor with a dilemma. He had no problem with nudity. He had no problem with his own nudity. The Doctor could happily wander the corridors of his TARDIS looking for the kitchen in nothing but a pair of socks and a bowtie (until Amy had started dropping her breakfast every morning, but Amy wasn't here right now), but, well... River gave him slightly frightening looks when he _rolled up his sleeves_ for Rasilon's sake; goodness only knows what she'd do if she found him wandering around in the buff.

On the other hand, since she clearly wanted him to put on the dress, River catching him wearing it could be worse than River catching him naked. Though it was possible she was trying to double bluff him into wandering around naked of course... hmm, what to do...

Still, unless River was actually waiting in the corridor outside, what was to say she even need see him? He could make a mad dash the the wardrobe, find some emergency pants and a bowtie, and set out to retrieve his stolen outfits. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Although, given that River had actually come into the room, removed all his clothes, and left him a frock, there was every chance she was waiting in the corridor outside. Probably best to play it safe then.

The dress was a surprisingly good cut for him. Suspiciously, even, the Doctor thought, as he did up the tiny pearl buttons up the chest to the scooped neckline. Fastened, it draped around him snugly, but not at all tight. _Fitted_. Yes, definitely suspicious. Especially the way it flared out _just_ below his hips, disguising his shape in the light, fluttering folds of cotton. He pulled the cardigan on because whoever designed the shoulder sleeves in this dress was clearly more concerned with _drawing attention_ to his arms that covering them. It was a very soft knit, almost silky, very fine. He leant his head to his shoulder and took a swipe with his tongue. Cashmere. No buttons, just two knitted ties which the Doctor absentmindedly looped together in a loose bow. A perfect fit. Either an awful lot of planning had gone into this, or Sexy was in on the joke. Whichever way, probably time to get worried.

The Doctor considered the stockings, running them through his fingers, long and silky. Not his usual choice of leg wear, and probably a bit slippy when running. But the sundress only just reached his knees, leaving a lot of leg on display, especially when he moved. Overall, the stockings where probably the lesser of two evils. He pulled them on too.

The Doctor in the mirror looked remarkably feminine, softer lines, and daintier colours. The dress brought out his eyes. Still, lovely though it was, if there was one thing he'd learned from his many female companions over the millennia, skirts were not practical to run for your life in. Also, no pockets. He'd better go find the tweed in a minute. Well, a few minutes. He brushed his fringe back out of his eyes, slowly, then flattened his hands on the top of his chest and smoothed them down his front, down over his stomach and past his hips, resting in the folds of the skirt, feeling the lacy detail of the hold ups through the cotton. Hmm. He tilted is head and-

“Hello gorgeous!”

The Doctor spun around, glaring. Evil trouser-stealing woman, this was definitely all her fault.

“River! I don't suppose you know where my...” He started to growl, but trailed off when when his brain finally registered what his eyes where telling it.

River was standing- leaning- _lounging_ against the door, cocking her head back to admire the view with a smirk. She looked... well. Her usually voluminous hair was scraped back tight against her scalp into a bunch that blossomed at the base of her skull, her chest seamed oddly flat in the tight, chocolate leather vest she sported, but her hips, oh it was still all going on down there. Her black canvas britches stretched tight over her stomach and hips, before going loose around her legs on their way down to high leather boots. And jutting out from her unbuttoned fly, not obtrusively large, but very, very, _there_ , a bright, TARDIS blue dildo.

“Guh...”

“You where saying sweetie?”

“I was saying,” The Doctor choked out, “do you know where my bowtie is?”

River smirked and raised an eyebrow, nodding down to the stylised head of her facsimiled erection where the Doctor's best bowtie was tied like the crowning ribbon on a gift.

“Ah. Um, can I have it back?”

“Of course.”

“Right. Good.”

“If you can take it off with your tongue.”

He gave her a hard look, but she didn't seem to be joking. There was humour in her look, but mixed in with an awful lot of lust. He moved cautiously towards her.

“Dr Song, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?”

“Well, no. I hadn't thought of it.” River gave him her best _who, me?_ look.

“I hate you”

“No you don't”

The Doctor reached out, trying to grab his bowtie back, but wavering, trying not to touch River's dildo. She tilted her hips, wagging it back and fourth until he pulled his hands back, flushed with embarrassment.

“Do I need to tie your hands up with that pretty cardigan, miss?” River purred.

“No! No, definitely no tying!”. He hesitated, hearts racing, fingers trembling just a fraction, brain going haywire so he could hardly hear himself think over the background chatter _of his own head_. River shifted, ever so slightly, weight barely shifting from one foot to the other, but he can see the door handle now, and he gets it. _If you want, you can leave. I can leave_. He should go. He should really- but then will he ever know what would happen if he stays? This is a puzzle, a mystery, and there's only one way the Doctor knows how to deal with that. River moved again, a little closer, and he felt River's silicon cock brushing against his skirt, making it drag against _his_ cock and- oh. _Oh_.

Because it had been all go since he regenerated last, all running around and the universe exploding, and he'd only just dropped the newly (give or take) married Ponds off home before River popped up again and he'd never really stopped to find out what exactly it is this time that shoots right to the good parts of his brain and makes his whole self go _zing_ , but that? His hearts still pounded, but anything in his brain was swallowed in _want_. So he let a sly, shy smile creep across his face, and asked:

“And what do I call you? Mrs Robinson?”

River snorted, and her brow flickered at the edge of a frown, but only for half a second, before the implications sank in and she was back to full blown smirk.

“You, miss, you call me Sir.”

“I see. And what do we do now. Sir.”

River threw her head back and laughed.

“Now, pretty girl, you get on your knees and take that bowtie off with your tongue. And then you give me a good sucking off while you're there.” She traced a finger over the Doctor's lips, ran it down his chin and stroked his neck with the back of her fingers. Then she put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him down, bringing him face to head with her blue, semi-realistic silicon dick. “Get to it girl.”

The Doctor nervously wetted his lips, leaning in to see how his bowtie was knotted. River canted her hips impatiently, pushing forwards to rub the head against the Doctor's lips. The Doctor let himself move with her, rocking back and fourth, parted his lips a little and swiped his tongue out to give the head a darting lick. He heard River chuckle above him, and took advantage of her distraction to pull at the slipknot with his teeth (Rule two, the Doctor cheats).

Swift as anything, River's hand darted down, beckoning with her fingers for the bowtie. Always so quick, his River Song. He let her take the strip of cloth from his mouth, turning back to her cock, slipping his lips around the head and sucking obscenely as River whispered filthy encouragement. He slipped his tongue out along the underside, licking at it's smooth curve, sliding it deeper into his mouth with every slurp. He felt fingers run through his hair, stroking and caressing and pulling, pushing him in. The Doctor tried to pull back when the head hit the back of his throat, but River's hands steadied his head.

“Ah ah.” She cautioned.

The Doctor stilled, letting the length of River's erection lie across the back of his tongue, concentrating hard, trying not to choke. River's clever fingers carded through his hair, sliding and gathering. He felt the tug as she knotted his bowtie into a sloppy bow, hair pulled up into a lopsided ponytail.

“Perfect” she purred, and thrust her hips forward, pushing roughly past the back of his mouth and down into his throat. The Doctor swallowed desperately, eyes filling with saline, trying to relax his throat by shear desperation against the unexpected intrusion. River pulled slowly back, giving him some small relief as the shaft retreated, but she jerked forwards again, fucking him relentlessly. His oesophagus spasmed around River's cock before he overruled his reflexes, forcing them to relent and opening up his throat for her.

In control of himself once more, the Doctor lifted his hands to grip River's thighs, and started moving with her. She slowed her thrusts when he started deepthroating in earnest, and now he stopped panicking he heard little gasps puffing past her lips every time he put pressure on her solid erection. He let himself smile around River's dick, even as the tear tracks dried on his cheeks, and started putting his new knowledge to good use, clenching his mouth so he has to _force_ it around the blue silicon, passing the pressure to the root of River's strapon, to whatever part of it she was getting herself off on.

“Oh!” Her head fell back, making a _thunk_ against the wood of the door, she moaned deep in her chest, bringing a hand up to rub over her body, caress her chest, the other still resting in the Doctor's hair. “Oh, aren't you talented.” She breathed.

The Doctor pulled back, letting her cock fall from his wet, reddened lips.

“Gifted, that's me.” He smirked, rising to his feet and trying to shake life back into his stockinged legs.

“You know, a good girl should be more modest.”

“Like you?”

“Oh sweetie, a good girl should be _nothing_ like me.”

“Oh River Song, you bad bad... boy. What do we do now, sir?”

River chuckled low and dirty. Grabbing his shoulders she spun in around, and took hold of his hips, digging her artificial erection into his arse and between his legs to poke at his balls. With a quick step she marched him to the bed, pushed him down over it with a hand between his shoulder blades, and slapped his arse, hard and stinging through the thin cotton.

“Come on, up in the air, that's my girl.”

The Doctor complied, chest pressed against the duvet, stockinged feet scrambling for friction on the floor to push his backside up into River's demanding hands. With a sharp tug on his hips she positioned his arse to her liking, and bent her knees, just enough to hook her cock under the hem of the Doctor's dress and lift it up as she rose. She rubbed the saliva slickened length up the inside of his thighs, brushing again against his testicles, and teasing the moist head between his buttocks, pausing at his entrance to rub sweet, slow circles before sliding it up the small of his back, bunching folds of cotton as she moved.

He heard the brush of skin on coarse fabric, and the snap of a bottle cap, then the soft squelch as River rubbed her fingers together, warming the lubricant smeared over her hand.

She started slow, running a slick finger between his cheeks, up and down, following the same path she rubbed her cock, circling in on his entrance, pressing in on it. Moving millimetre at a time, she wiggled the tip of her finger past his tight sphincter until the first knuckle passed into him. Then she pushed in firmly, sliding her finger in to the base and resting her palm on his buttock. The Doctor gasped, tensing up and jerking his head around.

“What are you- OW!”

“Sshh, it's alright sweetie, just breathe.” The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “Good, and now relax.” He carried on breathing through his nose, letting is mussels unknot, untense from steel whipcords. The foreign sensation of River's finger in his arse was still strange, but when he relaxed around it, it was entirely bearable. She moved the slick finger in and out, stroking him open. When the first finger moved easily inside him, she gave him due warning and a second finger, pressing in with slow care, murmuring reassurances when his thighs clenched. Then she _twisted_ somewhere in his arse and the sensory input Went. Through. The roof.

“You like that, miss?” River asked, far too light for a woman who just put a lighting strike through his brain. She doesn't wait for a reply, as if he _could_ reply with every nerve singing with echoed pleasure, just takes advantage of the blissful relax of his body to start finger fucking him in earnest, wringing thoroughly undignified moans from his throat. She slipped a hand around the Doctor's hips and ran it up his inner thigh, feeling the lace of the stocking through the fabric, cupping him. He's so hard right now.

When three fingers sat easily in his arse, River stopped.

“Stand up” she whispered, leaning over his back to put her lips to his ear. He pushed himself shakily to his feet, leaning back onto River's fingers as she squeezes his burning erection. She eased her fingers out slowly, pulling them free one by one. “Turn around.”

The Doctor turned, hesitantly. River looked at him, flushed, skin sheened by beads of sweat. Eyes downcast, hands perfectly still, legs a little further apart than usual. Not surprising, given the intensity of the erection that tented out his skirt, leaving little dark, damp trails of pre-come seeping through the blue cotton. She's so hot for him right now.

“Oh, my pretty little girl.” River breathed. “Aren't you gorgeous.”

The Doctor looked up, taken aback slightly by the exultant edge in River's voice. Smiling, she stepped back, giving him a full view of her, and pulled the lubricant bottle back out. She squeezed a dollop into her palm rubbed it about her hand. Then she dropped her hand to his groin and wrapped it loosely around the base of her cock, twisting her wrist slightly as she rubbed the lube in. Tightening her grip, she pulled her fist right up to the tip and back, lubricating it in long, slow strokes. When the full length glistened with damp, she reached up and wiped her hand down the front of the Doctor's dress, painting it with damp finger-trails. She kissed him gently on the lips, soft and chaste, like a deathblow they both remember (for once).

Satisfied that her hand was clean, River reached back and pulled the band out of her hair, letting it leap out in golden coils like snakes, like a halo. Then she lay on the bed, legs apart and knees bent upwards just a little, long blue length bobbing in the air as she settled lazily back onto the pillows.

“Come along them miss.” River purred, waving a hand down at her facsimiled erection.

“Oh yes.” The Doctor breathed, hopping up onto the bed next to her.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

“That's my girl.”

The Doctor hesitated, kneeling by River's hip, unsure of his next move. River reached down, cupping a hand low on his inner thigh, guiding one of his legs over her hip until he straddled her.

“In your own time, sweetie.”

The Doctor reached back, finger searching, to hitch his skirt up and over River's cock, sheltering it between his thighs. Then he guided it oh so slowly until the tip nestled between his cheeks, just resting at his entrance. River moaned and canted her hips, pushing the head up and in, slowly teasing him apart. The Doctor rode up with it, but settled back down, inch by inch, eyes screwed shut as he took the length of River's dick into his body. He stilled with a few centimetres to spare, rocking just a little, moaning on every exhale. With a sigh of pleasure, River twisted her hips _up_ , pushing her pelvis flush to the Doctor's backside, forcing the last of her dildo up inside his arse.

“Oh!”

“Enjoying yourself sweetie?”

“Oh River!”

“What can I say? I'm just that good.”

“River Song, you bad bad boy.”

River caressed his knees, and slipped her hands up his stockinged thighs, bunching his dress up at the sides until she got her palms on his hot skin, gripped him hard, and started slowly thrusting. The Doctor gasped, breath catching sharp in the chest as River twisted and _moved_ , sensation buzzing out from his arse, creeping up his spine, coiling hot in the pit of his stomach. Every twitch made his skin feel tight, every thrust hit him like a jackhammer to the pleasure centres of his brain. How could he ever have thought River's burning blue strapon was _unobtrusive_? It felt huge against the virgin walls of his body, like it was growing, throbbing. Bigger on the inside.

Stroke by stroke, the hot coil of pleasure at the base of his skull burnt, but he learned to think around it, to meet River's thrusts, match them move for move. He started pushing up, riding her with abandon. He was inexperienced but River pulled his hips here and there, hitting the sweetest angles, making him write and gasp and push one hand to his chest, roughly stroking his hardened nipples.

 

“That's it, miss.” River gasped. “That's it right there. Keep touching yourself, that's right.” Her head was thrown back, eyes half closed, just open enough to watch the Doctor put on an amateur show for her, running a hand back through his hair and sending the bowtie flying. River's own hair fanned the pillow like a damp halo, sweat plastering strands to her face.

The Doctor shuddered, tense and tight, hot pressure building in his balls, winding up like a spring ready to fly, ready to blow. Like the dizzy rush of standing on the edge of a cliff concentrated in his throbbing arse, his straining bollocks, his twitching cock. River let go of his legs, grabbing two handfuls of fabric and pulled the skirt of the Doctor's blue sundress tight over his bobbing erection, pulling up upwards to cup his balls. He's so turned on he can feel the weave of the cloth against his glans, every thread rasping against clusters of nerve endings. River thrust up again, cock sliding along his prostate, and for a moment his entire existence is squeezed down from the top of his head, up from his toes, burning up between his legs. He comes, choking out a shout that may or may not be River's name, he's so far gone he can't tell. His arse clenches around River's cock, his own erection bobbing wildly, splattering his dress with dark, wet come stains. River grunts, whole body so tense she's trembling, tight as a wire and she comes right along with him, hands twisted so tight into the Doctor's dress it's leaving white marks on the skin of his shoulders.

She'll kiss them better later.

“Oh. Wow.” The Doctor breathed, slumping down and struggling to stay upright on quaking legs. River _mmm_ ed in lazy agreement, chest still heaving, eyes closed in glorious afterglow. He'd never seen her so still, he thought. River flicked an eye open, dropped her hands to the Doctor's hips and guided him up and off her still-stiff cock. He stifled a tight little gasp when the head popped out of his arse with a wet _shlick_. He let himself collapse down onto her oddly flat chest, leather soft and warm on his cheek. River took his buttocks in her hands and squeezed, rolling circles to massage out the tension.

“How was that, sweetie?” River finally murdered, sleepy and drained but oh so satisfied.

“nuuh”

“That good?”

“mmm”

“What do you say when someone's done something nice for you?” River prompted.

The Doctor dragged some trailing thoughts together enough to escape the sub-verbal, blissed-out afterglow he was basking in, at least long enough to string an answer together.

“Thank you, sir.”

River smiled.

“That's my girl”


End file.
